And perhaps Zenyatta is glad to make it easy for her, charmed as he is by the light, playful way she ribs him, made all the better by the knowledge that at any moment she could land an altogether crueler blow.

Could. But will not.

Sombra's body is warm and soft and so unexpectedly real amongst the chaos of input, close enough now to mist chrome with her breath, breasts crushed to his chestplate.

"Please." He nuzzles into the nape of her neck; kisses are beyond him, but perhaps she will appreciate a buzz of omnic energy along her skin. "If you will indulge me."